Michael Lindgren

The Winnowing is nigh. I heard the voices calling in the night I sensed the stream of ones & zeros flickering soundlessly. The keening word has been given handed down from on high How many, out of how...

Siren It calls, of course: a deep whisper asking for the slender trickle, to dim the corners and elevate. To spread warmth, dissipate, cajole, enjoin. Answer the call. Thin air, cold snow, speak plainly about p...